


The only enemy he ever seems to lose to

by fauxilya



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Canon Era, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, The Author Regrets Everything, The Room Where It Happens (Hamilton)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:39:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29402811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fauxilya/pseuds/fauxilya
Summary: What happened in the room where it happens, ft. ice cream lover! Alexander Hamilton and crying! Thomas Jefferson.Or, canon era pining.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	The only enemy he ever seems to lose to

**Author's Note:**

> Historically, Jefferson was far less extroverted than the musical version, and was a very sentimental man who was recorded to have teared up on several occasions. So I took my liberty with that, lol.

"That's where you've been hoodwinked," said the smartly dressed man, who was flicking the outside of his goblet with his fingertips, cocking his head slightly to cast a scrutinizing gaze at his political opponent, who was now sitting stiffly behind the table, hands interlaced and fidgeting, looking straight into the remainder of his own glass of good wine. "Mr. Jefferson. I'm afraid you are as ignorant of the current financial crisis the Union is facing as you are of your own accumulating debt."

Hamilton raised his eyebrows almost teasingly, the corners of his mouth turning up in a barely perceptible—but not at all concealed—complacent curve. Although everything—from the large dining room they were in, to Jefferson's elegant, perfectly tailored wear, to the faint scent of rosemary released from the guttering candles wafting through the air—suggested against his previous comment, Hamilton knew full well of other man's tight pocket: the total value of the Secretary of State's temporary yet no less ostentatious residence might not cover even a fraction of his debt. He had connections with almost every prominent family in New York; Jefferson's financial situation was far from the most powerful blackmail he had on him.

"Oh?" Jefferson's knuckles turned visibly white as he tried to ignore the sweats sticking to his enclosed palms and the expanse of his forehead. Maybe he should blow out a few candles. Maybe later he would, when the matter at hand was...resolved. "Not only is Mr. Secretary of the Treasury derelict in his duties, unable to defend his unjustifiable policies, but he has turned to unsubstantiated personal attacks. Tactful as usual, Alexander."

He bit out his opponent's given name, observing with morbid satisfaction the hint of an annoyed flush creeping unto his opponent's sharp features.

"Interesting it is indeed, " Alexander countered, without a regard to the stab, "that the man who thought I would foolishly take offense by a name, was lording over hundreds of household slaves, practicing an institution he called evil for his own gains. Too, he was, blinded by forbidden feelings that ought to be hidden from the eyes of the public. "

He leaned back, hands dangling innocently just above his lap.

Feigning a sigh.

"What Mrs. Cosway and I have had hardly exceeded the normality of friendship, for all that you, my good sir, are concerned." Thomas could not help but fire back a retort, the trembling in his voice however betraying him.

Alexander set the glass back on the table, the contents of which were at once in a tumble, leaving spots of deep purple on the inner surface of the goblet. "I know nothing of Mrs. Cosway. You are the one who has been overly concerned."

The bell rang; the dessert for the meeting was then brought to the table, followed by a few wisps of cool air sizzling into the delicate candlelight. Alex's smile widened; his more or less boyish face reminded Thomas of a wingless Eros—or the cunning Hermes, god of trickery and theft, oozing with endless charm nonetheless.

"Hamilton, that snake, he always knows where lie the deepest desires of others. " a Congress member once complained to Madison and him, "he can make you walk readily into his trap, providing aid for his own ambitious pursuits."

Was it possible that Hamilton somehow knew what he wanted most? No—it couldn’t be. Thomas never told anyone; it took him months to even acknowledge the truth himself. Unless...

Unless he knew.

...those forbidden feelings...

Unbeknownst to Alexander, his accusations against Jefferson pointed to one of the more profound crimes in their time, which his rival had come close to commit.

Thomas's throat constricted as fear sank its fangs into his chest. He tried to leave the sweeping guilt behind him, to have it buried six feet under his subconscious; he attempted futilely to banish the soreness behind his eyes, to rein in the sudden intense rush of feelings.

Hamilton observed him over the rim of his glass, eyes glinting with interest. The few feet between them was, regretfully, not enough to make Jefferson's bloodshot eyes indiscernible. Hamilton couldn't help but snicker softly—that bastard who had always taken a point to look impeccable, seemed to have recently rested as much or as little as Alexander himself since he took took office.

"It seems that your beloved one has been tormenting your spirit for quite some time." The presumptuous remark slipped naturally from his mouth. The smile ended in Alexander's eyes and was replaced by a sharp, predatory gleam. "We all have our secrets, don't we?"

Alexander frowned at the sourness dripping in his own voice—that was fully unintended, he would argue. His mood had been improved with every taste of French delicacies(Jefferson may have been an asshole, but he was at least an asshole who had introduced vanilla ice cream; Alex unfortunately had a sweet tooth, and had decidedly just developed particular liking to vanilla ice cream). He had only meant it as a joke, with all that talk about Jefferson’s beloved, and probably ease the building tension at the table. After all, this negotiation concerning the balance of power between North and South was still very much on—and tonight they'd already wasted an awful lot of time on vicious back-and-forth, pointlessly testing each other out. Even Madison couldn’t suffer the inefficiency of their conversation, and had excused himself from the table for long.

_He'd screwed up._ The thought skidded through Thomas’s mind. Hamilton’s latest regard left him a deer in headlights, his breathing carrying a new burden. A few wrinkles, shallow, emerged across his his forehead, yet Thomas had looked so ...... young in the candlelight, thought Alexander. So fragile and frightened he was, avoiding Alexander’s eyes.

As if he was suddenly sitting on pins and needles.

"Would you excuse me." Jefferson's voice was strain with desperation, broken off around the edges. He practically sprung up from his seat, walked in hurried steps out of the room without so much as a word.

_We all have our secrets, don't we?_

_He knew._

"But, Mr. Secretary!" The shorter man shouted after him, the intended bite in his tone diminishing somewhat. Seeing that the other man had not the slightest intention of stopping, he finally registered the seriousness of the situation. An unsettling sense of foreboding came over him, and Hamilton rose up in his seat, trotting to keep up with Jefferson's long, ever-moving legs.

"I believe we have reached not an agreement, Sir! " he yelped, breathless, driving his legs forward with sheer willpower now, shuffling through a maze of corridors, the soles of his boots stomping with vicious force against the hardwood of the floor. He followed Jefferson’s tall silhouette past the countless classics tucked into bookshelves, which were on the verge of overflowing. A few framed portraits looked down at him as he bolted forward. "Sir! Jeff—won’t you just stop there and listen—"

Thomas took a sharp swerve, then stumbled into an empty guest room. He fumbled around in his pocket, cursing at the lack of the familiar cling-clung of metal. He slammed shut the door, leaned his back against the solid pane of wood, and pushed the latch on as carefully as he could—a simple task made extra difficult by the almost frantic trembling of his hands. His keys disappeared right at the moment when he most needed the security of a locked door. Brilliant.

His headache flooded in and grew on the spot, like the constant pounding of an axe; his body shuddered like autumn leaves. The first drops of warm liquid slid down his flushed cheeks.

_Hamilton knew._

Once again, his stupidity had led him into Hamilton's trap, and in his fear he had unwittingly confirmed the worst speculations of his political enemies. Hell, the destruction of his career wouldn't have been more distressing. In fact, death would be more likely a mercy in the face of revelation.

He couldn’t imagine the smugness Hamilton must have adopted after learning about his infatuation; the scandal was made all the more humiliating by the fact that the object of Thomas’s affection was none other than the Treasury Secretary himself.

He blinked in an attempt to banish the haze from his vision; a few more fat drops of water rolled down his cheeks, leaving a trail of bitterness in their wake.

Commenced all of a sudden an urgent series of knocks on the door, the impatient style of its owner recognizant.

"Mr.Jefferson, Sir."

Thomas let out a small breath. "I propose that we postpone this meeting. " he swallowed hard, the many languages he was fluent in failing him collectively, "I...am feeling unwell, as of recently. I ask for your understanding."

A brief pause. "Sir, the Bill is up for first reading in congress tomorrow." The mahogany door failed to qualify the indifferent coldness in Hamilton's words, and his surprisingly subdued tone bordered on what could be described as exhaustion. "Your opinion is crucial, Sir. As much as I hate to admit it, I am in need of your immediate cooperation."

"I think you’ve known my opinion well enough, Hamilton," Thomas responded in a small voice, "I hold no particular respect for the system you proposed, as well as for your character—I'm afraid you have knowledge of more than just my opinion on this issue." He added grimly, "you can freely return to your wife’s warm embrace, good sir, we have little else to converse about. As for the sordid secrets of mine, that you were never meant to know, it is your choice to bury them in an eternity of darkness or expose them in the daylight. I have not a word to say for myself but that it is the undeniable truth. "

"That is not up to me." To Jefferson's annoyance, Alexander’s presence remained stubbornly outside the door, "Your...thing with Cosway is not as secretive as you would like to think. You do know about the insidious rumors circulating through New York City day and night. It is morally corrupt to entangle with a married woman," outside, Hamilton went silent for a second, then continued, “but it would do little harm to your profile. Even you should know that, Sir. So why bother losing sleep over it?”

"..."

The restless silence resumed, stretching out in the doorway.

The air was still for a moment.

"By God," Thomas spoke again, voice fully broken with sobs this tie, "as if he knew none about it, that snake!"

The endless frustration that had been piling up since the start of the evening swept through Alexander's body in an instant. "What else do you want, you and your band of bloodsucking lackeys? I've made the most magnanimous concessions, yet you are still unsatisfied—"

_You know_ , Thomas thought, his head wrapped up in a jumble of emotions, _you know what would satisfy me, know what I wanted most, know how to destroy me with my own desires. Why haven’t you taken a move, Alexander? What are you waiting for?_

One word and he would be on his knees.

Meanwhile, Alexander interrupted himself amidst the non-stop cursing,forcing himself to take a deep, calming breath—but to no avail. Before he could slam on the mental brakes, the rest of his rant was readily rolling off his tongue, "tens of thousands of fathers, sons, and husbands have sweat and bled for the Union we have today, how could I bring myself to watch its future aflame at the hands of you pampered, pedantic, elitist Southerners? "

Alexander was too wrung out to keep up his pretense of good manners, so hr didn't even bother to hide the disdain reeking in his words.

_Was this the moment that Hamilton would unmask himself?_

_Was the Treasury Secretary finally going to drop the bomb, confess about his knowledge of his enemy's darkest secrets, and coerce him into bargaining with this piece of top tier blackmail material?_

_Did Alexander know--_

The fog cleared around Thomas's mind.

A game of chess.

He might as well play along.

"If you have to cower in your room for no reason at all, then fine, let's do the talking inside--as you wish!" Alexander slammed his fist into the door, knuckles throbbing from the forceful impact, "Damn it, Jefferson, open the door and let me in! "

_Bang._

First came the crashing sound as the door whirled open.

Then touched were two pairs of lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated <333333


End file.
